


Some Days are Better than Others

by engagemythrusters



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Sick Fic, just a lil' Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-04-07 12:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/pseuds/engagemythrusters
Summary: Sometimes, aliens attack Cardiff. Others times, people. Rarely, someone's immune system.





	Some Days are Better than Others

**Day 1**

"... which is why it's best  _not_  to disturb them," Jack finishes.

He's met with an uncharacteristic silence. Frowning, he looks around the table. Owen's not paying any attention, not that he ever had been, and Gwen is looking a bit lost. Ianto has his head down, probably deep in thought or something. Toshiko's scowling slightly, but she at least looks like she understood. 

"Sorry," Gwen says slowly, "but why are we bother--"

She cuts off, jumping slightly in her chair. Jack frowns deeper, giving her a quizzical look. Owen and Tosh look on expectantly, while Ianto's still lost in thought. 

"Well?" Owen asks sharply.

"There was a noise," Gwen says. "I don't know where it came fro--there it was again!"

"Everyone, quiet," Jack says with sudden urgency. Any unknown noise in the middle of a secret, underground, alien-catcher's base was cause for concern.

They sit in silence for a moment, no one daring to even move an inch. Gwen's eyes are wide with fear. They widen even further, somehow, when a soft sound permeates the uneasy silence. Owen curses, fidgeting for something. Probably the gun he left in the autopsy room. Tosh's head whips around, looking for the source of the noise. Jack merely lets out a breath and smiles. He, unlike the rest of the team, knows exactly what the noise is and where it's coming from. 

"Now I've got witnesses," Jack whispers, smirking.

"What--" Owen begins to ask, but Jack shuts him up with a silent finger to his mouth.

"He says he doesn't snore," Jack explains quietly.

The team's collective eyes follow his pointing finger to the form of Ianto, bent over not out of contemplation, but sleep. 

"That's... new," Tosh says, blinking. "Didn't think Ianto was one for sleeping during a meeting. Owen, sure, but Ianto?"

Owen glares at her. "Oi!"

"No, he isn't." Jack crosses his arms, regarding his sleeping lover. "Though he didn't get much sleep last night." 

"God," Owen says. "Excuse me, I need to go bleach my brain."

"Not like  _that_ ," Jack says. "I mean, I wish, but no, not that kind of not sleeping."

Jack remembers coming home last night, bone weary and exhausted. Ianto had been much of the same, after a long night of saving Cardiff yet again, but couldn't seem to fall asleep. Jack assumes it was another bout of insomnia. Then again, Ianto's insomnia never caused him to drift off in the middle of a meeting; normally, Ianto downs an inordinate amount of coffee to combat that. So, Jack thinks back on yesterday and tries to come up with a better explanation. He rules out sex (hadn't had it last night), Weevils (Ianto wasn't on that trip), and archiving (that's never tired Ianto out; in fact it's just the opposite). But there was one other thing that happened yesterday. 

"Owen," Jack says, as calmly and quietly as possible, "when he wakes up, bring him down to sickbay."

"What for?" Owen asks, not bothering to make himself quiet.

"Just do it," Jack orders. "I'll be in the Archives."

In the Archives, Jack takes great care to move as few things around as possible; Ianto hates it when his Archives get trashed. It takes less than five seconds to remember why nobody but Ianto really goes down to fetch files. The filing system is absolutely bizarre. Jack takes a while to find the area he should start searching in. Not to point fingers, but if there's any reason the Archives get disorganized so often, it's probably because nobody can find anything. 

Seventeen minutes into his search, Toshiko joins him.

"He's awake," Tosh tells him. "Sort of. Owen's waiting for you. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Jack takes one last look over the file in his hands before slapping it closed. "Yep. Let's go."

'Sort of awake' was a surprisingly accurate description of Ianto. He is sitting on the autopsy table, looking for all the world like he should be in bed. He's nodding slightly, head bobbing up and down in a cycle of trying to wake himself up, only to fall closer to sleep. Jack has the strange urge to take Ianto in his arms and just... _hold him_.

"File?" Owen asks.

"Here," Jack says, handing it to him.

Owen slams the file on the autopsy table, startling Ianto awake. For a few moments, at least. Owen reads the contents, grumbling to himself all the while.

"Benobian flu?" Owen asks skeptically. "They didn't look sick yesterday."

"If you read your file more carefully," Jack says, "you'd find that the Benobian flu is a reaction humans have to being exposed to their secretions. Ianto spent the better part of yesterday cleaning up after them."

"Hm. Suppose I'll run these tests, then," Owen says, gesturing to the documents in front of him.

It's interesting to watch Owen run the tests. Rather, it's interesting to watch Ianto's reactions as Owen jabs him with needles, prods him with cold instruments, and shoves him over to scan him. By the time Owen finishes, Ianto looks scandalized and almost awake. Jack pats his head fondly before turning to Owen.

"Well?"

"Well," Owen says, heaving an exhaled breath, "just be glad it's not contagious."

"I've got it, then?" Ianto asks. He lets out a loud yawn.

"Yes." Owen looks at Ianto curiously. "Quick question: do you even know what we're testing you for?"

Ianto shrugs halfheartedly, his eyelids already beginning to droop. 

"Alright, then," Owen says, checking the notes in the file. "We're halfway through Symptom One-A."

"You need to stop it before it gets any further," Jack cautions. "Benobian flu might not be life-threatening, but it sure is... unpleasant."

"I know that!" Owen says, waving the file. "How do _you_ know that?"

"I've had it," Jack says. "Twice. Once treated, once untreated. Either way, I can tell you for sure, Ianto's in for a wild ride."

"Right, well. I need to synthesize this formula before he reaches Symptom One-B. Jack, keep talking to him and make sure he doesn't reach the point where--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." 

Turning to Ianto, Jack gives him a big smile. Ianto smiles back, but it's kind of pathetic on his half-asleep face. And adorable.

"You're going to have an interesting four days," Jack tells him.

"Hmm," Ianto says, not really paying attention.

Jack grins. "And so is everyone else."

 

**Day 2**

Tosh checks her handbag again. She could have sworn she packed some granola to eat in there. It was going to be her breakfast! She sighs, finding nothing, and sits down at her desk. Oh, well. It's not the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last.

A movement catches her eye, and she perks up a bit.

"Ianto! I was wondering if you could... make... some coffee..." she trails off.

Ianto is shuffling forward, wrapped in a pile of blankets and masked in an odd expression. Tosh remembers that he's sick with a sad sinking feeling. No coffee, then. Great, just what she needs. Oh, and she supposes Ianto being sick isn't that great either. 

"Sorry," she says quickly. "Didn't mean to--"

She stops again as she notes that Ianto's still walking towards her, the odd expression never leaving his face. Jack comes into view, awkwardly jogging around the Hub, undoubtedly in pursuit of Ianto. Ianto just keeps coming closer and closer until he's standing right in front of her desk, staring down at her. 

"Green," he mumbles, and he puts a hand on directly on her face. Tosh has never felt more uncomfortable in her life.

"Woah," Jack says, finally catching up to Ianto.

He puts his hands on Ianto's biceps and practically steers him away from Tosh and to the battered sofa. Ianto, still swathed in his blanket, falls into it, letting out a _woosh_ of air. He doesn't look the least bit fazed, apparently not caring that he was just manhandled and pushed into a sofa. Actually, he looked quite content.

Jack stays there for a moment, making sure Ianto doesn't move. Satisfied, he turns back to Tosh.

"Sorry about that," Jack says. 

"Not a problem," Tosh replies, using a cloth to get Ianto's fingerprints from her glasses. "You sure he's okay?"

"Yeah," Jack says. He peers over his shoulder at Ianto. "The medication just has the tendency to leave people a bit, well, unhindered."

"You mean he's high?" Tosh asks, glancing backward as well.

Ianto blinks at them both. 

"Pretty much," Jack says. Ianto turns his blinking to Jack, and Jack responds with a fond smile.

"Oh."

Not for the first time, she's grateful that Ianto's the one that cleans the Hub, so that nobody else contracted this flu. Especially her. She can't imagine what it'd be like for her to go through that. How mortifying it would be. Then again, Ianto's probably going to be rather embarrassed when he regains his sense of... everything. 

"He's not going to remember most of it," Jack says, as if sensing her thoughts. 

"Too wired to remember?"

"Something like that," Jack says. He redirects his smile to Tosh. "Go ahead and get started. I'll make sure Ianto doesn't bother you again."

Tosh watches Jack join Ianto on the sofa. Ianto topples sideways as Jack's weight unbalances him, but Jack rights him and offers him another smile. Ianto reaches his hand out of the blankets again and pats Jack's hand.

"Red," Ianto says vacantly.

"Damn it," Jack murmurs, almost to himself. "Thought I was going to be blue."

She wants to ask if the colours signify something (and if so, what does green mean?), but Jack's too busy watching Ianto, and she's supposed to be working. Returning her glasses to her face and her focus to her monitors, she begins her day, hungry, coffee-less, and slightly confused.

 

**Day 3**

Owen's made it through most of today solely due to the four cups of Starbucks coffee that litter his desk. He has no intentions of cleaning those up, either. If Ianto forces Owen to drink sub-par coffee, he can certainly make up for it by cleaning it up. When he's feeling better, that is. Owen highly doubts that Ianto could clean anything in his current state. 

Speaking of, what  _is_ Ianto's current state? He'd gotten out of his colour phase yesterday, as well as his as his talkative stage. Thankfully. Owen's quite sure he couldn't handle another minute of jumbled facts about everything and anything. Hell, if Owen hears anything about how to properly clean the coffee machine in the next millennium, it'll be too soon. He just hopes that whatever Ianto's like now isn't something annoying. If it is, he's going to purposefully miss the next dose and let Ianto suffer the full effects of the Benobian flu. 

Owen doesn't have to wonder for long. He's just about to prepare for an autopsy when Jack shows up, a narrow-eyed Ianto in tow.

"Hey," Jack says wearily. Owen wonders how much rest he's gotten in the past three days. "I need you to watch Ianto for a while."

"Now?" Owen gripes. "I don't have time to play nanny; I was finally getting ready to check out that Rizian we found yesterday."

"It's just going to have to wait," Jack says simply. "I've got loads of paperwork I need to finish. If they're not done by the time Ianto's better, he'll kill me."

Owen doesn't mention that Ianto looks ready to kill someone now. Instead, he groans. "Why me?"

"Tosh is working and Gwen's cleaning."

"Gwen?" Owen asks doubtfully. "Cleaning?"

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please, Owen, just... it'll only be an hour or two."

Owen relents, not because he's nice, or anything, but because he's pretty sure Jack's going to end up falling asleep over the paperwork, and god knows the man needs it. And that's still not being nice, that's acknowledging that Jack's going to get cranky without that nap. 

"Thank you," Jack practically sighs in relief. 

Jack gets three steps up before he turns back around. 

"Oh, and he's gotten to that stage where he's suspicious of everything, just so you're aware."

Owen glances over to Ianto, who's eyeing him cagily.

"Noted," Owen says.

Jack doesn't resume his climbing the stairs, instead choosing to hover. Owen patiently lets him do this for a few minutes as he shoves Ianto in the corner so he can continue his autopsy, before shooing him away. 

"You said you were going to do paperwork," Owen says. "If you're not going to, take Teaboy and let me work in peace."

"I'm going, I'm going," Jack grumbles, and he disappears into the Hub.  

Owen finishes with the autopsy rather quickly, because it's not the first Rizian he's opened up. Even if that were the case, Rizians are small and Owen already knows the cause of death: a bullet fired from Owen's own gun. No, it's the paperwork that takes forever. He hates paperwork and it always seems to drag on forever. 

Two and a half hours later, and Jack hasn't returned. Owen sighs and turns around, finally bothering to pay attention to his charge. Ianto hasn't stopped regarding him with that suspicious gaze. He's not said a word since he arrived. That's fine with Owen; he'd rather not hear about the merits of not buying noise-making toys for toddlers (something to pester Ianto about later: who does Ianto know that has a kid?). 

Curious and ever the scientist, Owen decides to test something on this new, wary Ianto. He glares at Ianto, and Ianto immediately glares back. Owen narrows his eyes, and Ianto does the same. Owen purses his lips, and so does Ianto. Owen leans forward slightly, but Ianto doesn't mirror. 

And, suddenly, Owen finds himself regretting his experiment.

 

**Day 4**

Gwen makes her way to the conference room to maker her call. It's quiet in there, and there's nobody around to hear when Rhys starts ranting and raving about her missing lasagna night again. She doesn't need Tosh's pitying look and Owen's rude sneer right now, thanks. She had actually been looking forward to lasagna night. Maybe she'll reheat some later, after she's done with her Weevil hunting.

The conference room is not as empty as she'd hoped. There is someone in the corner, sitting on the floor, not facing her. A moment's worth of studying the figure uncovers that this is Ianto, huddled in his cocoon of blankets. Gwen looks about the room for somebody else, but there's no one there, save the two of them. Oh, dear. He shouldn't be alone, not after Owen.

Steeling herself, she takes a few tentative steps towards Ianto. It's unlikely that he'd harm her; he's out of that paranoid phase now. Besides, he'd only tried to attack Owen because Owen was provoking him, the git. Be that as it may, she still takes extra care to be gentle and outwardly friendly to the man, just in case he's in another odd funk like that.

When she's close enough, she notes how... unusual Ianto looks. He's haggard and unshaven, something Ianto usually would hate to look like. Gwen supposes being high out of ones mind does that to a person. But the staring at the wall does creep her out quite a bit. 

"Ianto?" she says tentatively.

Ianto makes no note of her. He continues to stare at the wall with a vacuous expression.

"Ianto, love, are you alright?" she tries again.

Nothing from Ianto, who does not stop his staring.

"Okay," she says slowly. 

Hesitantly, she reaches out a hand to slap him, shake him, soothe him, anything. Something to wake him from this trance. The universe, apparently, has better a better idea, because Jack barges into the conference room. Her hand, hairsbreadth away from his shoulder, snatches back as she snaps her head up at the captain.

"Ianto?" Jack calls.

"Down here," Gwen says. 

"Oh, thank god," Jack says, breathing out in obvious alleviation. 

Jack joins her by Ianto, and that ease fades away as quickly as it came.

"I'd hoped he'd skip this stage," Jack says. He sounds almost sad. 

"What stage?" Gwen asks. 

Jack doesn't answer her question. "Could you leave us, please?"

Gwen frowns, because she'd much rather stay and help, but something in Jack's tone forces her to stand up and walk away, just as he crouches down directly in front of Ianto, blocking all views of the wall. Gwen lingers in the doorway a little, though, because her curiosity, as per usual, outweighs her obedience. 

"Hey, Ianto," Jack says, oh-so-gently.

The tone makes Gwen's heart flutter, even if it's not for her.

"It's alright. It's okay."

Now he just sounds like he's shushing a spooked animal. Lovingly. 

That last thought startles Gwen a bit. It shouldn't, not really, because if the past few days have made anything clear, it's that Jack treats Ianto much the same as Rhys would treat Gwen if she were sick: with care, affection, and unwavering devotion. Honestly, it's just that Gwen never thought Jack to be the type of person Rhys could be. She's not seen the caring, affectionate, devout Jack before now. She's got the feeling she won't see it much after, but at least for now, at least in this moment, Jack's that person. And it's overwhelming and sweet and heartbreaking all at once.

Jack stands up, pulling the swaddled Ianto up with him, and Gwen ducks out of the door before Jack can see her gawking. 

"Come on," Jack says to Ianto, "let's get you out of here."

Gwen quickens her pace, spurred by the desire to call Rhys and tell him she'll be home for dinner, no matter the case (and privately wonders to herself if Jack and Ianto have something like a lasagna night).

 

**Day 5**

Ianto's head is going to kill him. Any moment, and it will implode, explode, shrivel up, rot, or something equally as unpleasant. 

"That's what you get for being high for four days straight," Owen taunts.

Ianto doesn't know what he did to Owen, but it's made Owen nastier to him than usual. There's more snark that Ianto has to deal with, even though Ianto's in no mood to spend an hour locked in a battle of witty retorts, scathing jibes, and lots of scorn. Luckily, Owen seems to shut up if Ianto glares at him _just so_. 

"So?" Jack says. 

Jack is leaning over the rails of the autopsy room, hovering like a mother. It's slightly unnerving and just a little mortifying. 

"He'll live," Owen says, snapping his gloves off. Ianto catches the mumbled "unfortunately."

"Yeah, but--"

Owen cuts across Jack. "You're fine. But no coffee until the drugs are fully out of your system. Alien compounds and caffeine don't tend to mix. Though nobody's stopping you from making the rest of us coffee."

Ianto ignores Owen's pointed look. "No coffee. Got it. Everyone gets tea."

"We've already had four days without real coffee and you're condemning us to a fifth? You're a sick man, Ianto Jones."

"Decidedly not, no," Ianto says, tugging at his cuffs as he slides off the autopsy table. "You've just confirmed as much."

Owen throws him a dark look, and Ianto takes his leave from the surly doctor.

"So," Jack says as Ianto joins him upstairs. "Remember much?"

"No," Ianto mock sighs. "It seems I'm missing out on the perfect opportunity to terrorize Owen. I've got no clue how to recreate whatever it is I did."

"As fun as that sounds," Jack says, pulling a face, "best not."

"Oh." 

They stand in silence for a while, Ianto attempting to find the guts to say whatever it is he's supposed to say to the man who took care of him for the past four days. He eventually settles on a stunted "thank you" and calls it good.

"I'd say it was my pleasure," Jack replies, "but it's not really fun being on either side of the Benobian flu."

"Mmm," is Ianto's elegant response. 

The awkward silence creeps back, and Ianto starts to feel more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

"I'll be off, then," Ianto says. "I can only wonder at the states of the Archives after four days of negligence."

"Good luck," Jack chuckles.

Ianto's walking past Tosh's empty desk when Jack calls out again.

"What would you say to dinner tonight?"

Ianto stops and turns, blinking at Jack. "Not sick of me yet, sir?"

Jack gives him a smile, the likes of which Ianto's never seen before. It's not his thousand-megawatt grin, nor his Captain Universe beam, it's a genuine smile. The sheer magnitude and force of it catches Ianto off guard for a moment before it sinks as a new, pleasant feeling in his chest. 

"Never."

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days, I'll make a _normal_ sick fic that has someone falling ill from simply the (human) flu. Today's not that day, though, so have this instead.  
> (Editing? Who's she?)


End file.
